


Mr. Brightside

by deanbeltingbohemianrhapsody



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Songfic, Unhealthy Relationships, my own universe that i might write more in, obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 06:48:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11709048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanbeltingbohemianrhapsody/pseuds/deanbeltingbohemianrhapsody
Summary: It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this.





	Mr. Brightside

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've ever fully finished because I took an Adderall and decided not to stop until I was done. So, here is the unbetaed hot mess of my made-in-a-day Batjokes Mr. Brightside songfic. This is my first finished piece of writing that I won't be sending to my father.

_Coming out of my cage and I’ve been doing just fine._

      One of the many winding alleyways of Gotham City. A figure slinks through, a flicker against the dim lamplight of a broken neighborhood. It had already been a year, but Bruce Wayne still feels like every fight is his first. Consequences may seem distant for criminals, but never for him. Not when the weight of Gotham hangs on his shoulders. Maybe time will numb Bruce (and the public) to his nightly routine, but for now it feels that as long as the Batman has a chance, so does the city.

                                                                                     -------------

     A smoke filled room in a dirty club. Most men would only come to a place like this in the most dire circumstances, but Jack Napier isn’t most men. When life is a game you might as well take risks. 23 years surviving Gotham’s worst would harden anyone, and Jack had long since decided that there is no stable reality worth striving for. The best of life comes not with moral discipline, but with the thrill of following impulses to their satisfying, if sometimes destructive, conclusions.

                                                                                    -------------

_Gotta be down because I want it all._

     If Bruce Wayne is known for anything, it’s for his ability to attract gorgeous women like flies to shit. Playboys are a dime a dozen, so no one expects anything else of him. Funny how a well crafted mask only makes the wearer look more ordinary. An evening spent in a ballroom plastering on his most charming smile followed by a night spent slinking between alleys, terrifying criminals with his most menacing scowl.

     Tonight on Bruce’s radar is a gang known as the Red Hoods, responsible for thievery of cash, weapons, toxic chemicals and at least 21 lives so far. The harsh red letters of Ace Chemicals stands out against the grey cement building that the gang is currently looting of it’s contents for god knows what unspeakable purpose. Bruce slides through a window on the ceiling, watching the thugs down below split into groups of three. Obviously they’re looking for something specific. That means these guys are smarter than he thought. Great.

     All the men wear red beanies fashioned into balaclavas apart from the apparent leader, who wears a stiff, shiny red cap that covers his entire head. He also seems to dress nicer than the others going for a suit and tie rather than street-wear.

    _Classic psychopathic behavior,_ Bruce thinks before pushing that thought aside. Prejudice won’t do any good, best to look with an equal gaze until proven otherwise. The Bat is climbing down the rafters when he registers the sudden sound of police sirens. Shit. Now this is going to be a mess. The thugs beneath him begin to panic, scattering even further away from each other, every man for themselves. All except one, who stays perfectly still, looking up at the Bat with a steady, deliberate gaze. Fuck. He’s been spotted, and by the queen bee no less. Gunshots sound and Bruce turns his attention to a shootout between a few of the gang members a crew of policemen. The Bat drops behind the criminals, disarming and knocking them out before the police can even get a solid look at him. Another member seems to be running away with a stack of papers, no doubt stolen from the office. A well thrown batarang does the trick. Only the leader seems to be left, making his way through the factory’s maze of metal stairs and clanking floors.

     Bruce chases the man into a dead end, the edge of a railing dropping off to a gigantic vat of chemical stew. The red masked man backs away from the towering Bat, clutching the rail until he tips over it and….

     Everything freezes as Bruce’s hand just barely misses a purple tie. Almost as if the man is suspended like a cartoon character above a cliff. Falling. The man is falling and Bruce is helpless to stop it. A splash of neon liquid cuts through the yelling of cops.

     No no NO! Bruce runs at a panicked pace to the factory floor where the base of the vat stands. His hands search frantically for some kind of opening, finding a single opening hatch. Turning the wheel to unlock it seems to take forever, until finally the liquid crashes out onto the concrete along with an unconscious and deathly pale man. Bruce grabs him and slings him over his shoulder, running out of the back of the building where the police haven’t set up squad cars. Bruce needs to get this man to water before whatever cocktail was soaking him leaves his skin a layer of corroded ooze. The nearby river is pretty polluted, but it can’t be worse for the man than what he’s already gone through. Bruce hauls the body into the river, watching a pool of stained water grow around him. His hand under the man’s mouth confirms his fears. No breath. Fuck. Looks like he has to utilize that CPR lesson.

_It started out with a kiss how did it end up like this._

     Jack wakes up to every muscle inch of his skin burning accept a soft warmth covering his lips. The warmth begins to face and his eyes peel open, gaze falling on a his savior.

     The recognition is immediate. A face only seen on a GQ and occasional Business Insider is inches away from his, half shrouded by an thick black cowl. As if that hides anything. Based on the fighting technique, Jack can tell that this is a mortal, unlike Superman or Wonder Woman. A strong mortal, but a mortal. Therefore, all of his gear is simply high-end Earth technology, acquirable only by the wealthiest and/or most well connected. And he can’t be a governmental agent. Too unorthodox. So, a billionaire, but not just any billionaire. It has to be a someone native to Gotham and knows it’s streets like a lover’s face, someone who has suffered trauma and come out seeing how nasty the world can be and how inadequate its systems of justice really are. Physical resemblance aside, it could really only be Bruce Wayne. The Batman, Bruce Wayne, his savior is saying something lost to the ringing in Jack’s ears.

      _Are you okay?_ Jack just makes out the repeated phrase on those pouty lips.

      _I am now sweetie,_ he thinks, giggling like schoolgirl at a sleepover.

The Batman cares about _him_ , common criminal scum that crawled out from the underbelly of Gotham. The giggles turn into full belly laughter and the Bat’s face scrunches into fear and worry. Jack supposes this isn’t a person’s usual response to debilitating pain, but we all have our ways. The man above him goes still and looks up as the blue and red lights of police cars flash over him. Pity, he would have liked to chat. With a wave of his cape, the Bat is gone, and Jack pulls himself up to run from the scene, just barely making it and laughing the whole time. Jack stubbles in his steps, his grin beginning to hurt his face and he knows one thing for sure. He may not be a jewel clad model, but he is determined, and Gotham be damned if that man wouldn’t be his.

_It was only a kiss. It was only a kiss._

                                                                                    -------------

_Ten years later_

     The Joker has a list of people who he can trust. It’s longer than you would think. One person who is not on that list is Selina Kyle.

     “Come on Jay, it will be easy. I swear I’ll be in and out of the party in 30 minutes tops, with all the info you need.”

     Her long black nails tap against the desk in a way that makes Joker want to show her exactly how many ways a cat can be skinned, but unfortunately she’s just too powerful of an asset to dispose of like that. As many thugs as Joker has, none have the skill-set for this job. A Wayne Charity Gala isn’t the best place for one of his tattooed freaks to blend, and no way any of them could get to Bruce Wayne’s personal computer without taking some...liberties. And the Joker can’t have his best dance partner taken down by the hands of some petty criminal.

     Selina is clearly the best person to send but there is no doubt she'll take some liberties of her own. Bruce’s playboy habits make The Joker's envy burn enough without sending extra sluts for him.

     “Fine,” the clown growls, “but Big Brother will be watching and if you make one wrong move-”

     “I’ll be made into shoes, I know.” Selina waves her hand in nonchalance. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you keep that smile on the whole night.”

     The Joker seriously doubts that.

                                                                                    -------------

     Selina gets in without trouble under the alias of Claude De La Chat, the wealthy CEO of a perfume company. Her penchant for pricey jewelry and sleek dresses blends right in with the Gotham elites and no one gives her a second glance. Accept to look at her ass of course. The Joker watches her strut across the room from a hacked camera at the top of the ballroom. He supposes he sees the appeal, but she isn’t exactly his type. Her target and his target are the same: Bruce Wayne

     The man stands by the banquet table, sipping champagne and looking oh so debonair. Selina approaches him with some charming line that the Joker can’t hear, but it must have been good because Bruce flashes his bright white teeth and lets out a chuckle. After a few minutes of exchange the billionaire grabs Selina’s hand and leads her into the ballroom floor.

    _This is the plan. Everything is going to plan,_ Jay tells himself, but it doesn’t stop the burning in his gut telling him walk in and grab the man himself.

      _No matter what she does, he’s yours. This is all to get closer to him, and if that means others have to play pretend then so be it._

      Bruce puts his hand on Selina’s lower back and Jay grabs a lollypop to distract himself with.

     The next hour is excruciating as envious green eyes watch Bruce slowly escort Selina off the ballroom, up the stairs, and into the bedroom. Perfect, now Selina could pause the make out session with a little tranquilizer and get what he needed. Only the bitch seemed to be taking her sweet time. The two are tangled up with no sign of stopping.

_Now they’re going to bed and my stomach is sick and it’s all in my head but she’s touching his chest…_

     Bruce lets Selina’s dress drop to the floor, revealing a sleek black bra and matching panties. The Joker’s acidic gaze burns into the computer screen as he watches Bruce put his hand on the Cat’s hip his red mouth curls into a snarl.

_I just can’t look it’s killing me and taking control._

     Five minutes. He will look away for five minutes and if the slut hasn’t taken care of it by then then he has a new leather jacket in his foreseeable future. The Bat is his and if she didn’t know that by now then she had better be ready to pay. The Joker counts the seconds. After a minute the lollipop has shattered in his teeth and all of his scabs are bleeding. Months in solitary can’t compare to the torture of this.

Emotion doesn’t strike the Joker often, most of the normal human range has been washed out of him along with the majority of his skin pigmentation and sliced away by a knife across his cheeks. But not for Batsy. Never for Batsy.

    The Joker turns back to the screen to see an unconscious Bruce behind the Cat, fully dressed and holding a data stick up the camera. Jay realizes he hasn’t taken a full breath for over an hour and a half. In the end, the data he gets isn’t even close to worth what he had to go through for it, but it’s not useless. There may not have been any of Batman’s information on that computer, but he’s able to get the blueprints to bomb a different charity event, so that should be a blast.

  -------------

_20 years later_

     If the Joker knows anything, it’s how to light up a building. The block that once contained a private school is now a blazing fireworks show, its light putting a glow on the faces of screaming Gothamites, the sight falling gently on the Joker and his rooftop view. Cutting through his laughter are the footsteps of a looming figure approaching him. Before the second bomb. Batsy is only getting better with age.

     “Why?” The Bat seems tired today.

     The Joker laughs heartily, like he just heard a good joke from an old friend. “Why not?”

_Jealousy, turning saints into the sea._

     The Bat understands. The Joker is a raging storm, and he will overturn any ship that had the misfortune or stupidity of getting between him and what he wants. What he doesn’t know is what he wants.

_Swimming through sick lullabies._

     The Bat’s shouts wash over Joker, soothing as a lullaby to his eager ears. “The school was empty today, but you knew that didn’t you? What else do you have planned?”

     The Joker just grins. “I don’t give people gifts until they earn it. You’ll just have to beat it out of me.”

     Batsy grabs him by the coat lapels and shoves him against the brick wall. Rough. Jay just laughs. Today is a good day. “How many other bombs?” he growls. The old theater explodes. Batsy punches him. A good day.

     “Call it off!”

     “Say please, darling.” Another punch. Jay gets drunk on these moments, when Brucie loses self control and just gives it to him. But a third punch doesn’t come. The hero gets down on his knees and begs.

     “Please”

      Well that’s not what he expected.

      “All right,” Jay sends a text to his thugs, calling off the rest of his plans for the night. Bats is no fun like this. If there is a twinge of remorse in there too, the Joker won’t admit it.

_Choking on your alibis._

     The Batman’s face is scrunched up something awful when he looks up at the criminal in front of him. Partially confusion, partially something else the Joker can’t identify.

     “Why do you really do it?” he asks, voice steady now.

     “It’s all just a joke,” Jay never says who the joke is for.

     The Joker has a feeling that he’ll face the sunrise in Arkham, for no other reason than that it will give Brucie some peace of mind.

_It started out with a kiss how did it end up like this._

     “Do you remember how we met?” The Joker asks, kneeling down.

     “Don’t mock me.” Bruce looks wrecked.

     “Not mocking, only fond memories from me.” Jay smiles, but holds back a laugh.

_But It’s just the price I pay._

     “Fond?” The Bat’s baby blue eyes look up at him in horror and anger. “You were deformed. Cursed. All because i couldn’t,” he hangs his head, “save you.”

     “Oh oh no,” Jay looks lovingly at the man in front of him. He must have lost a lot of sleep over this one. “You did save me. Just not in the way you expected to.” He smiles, “Right from that moment I felt your lips on mine, I knew that deformity and madness was a small price to pay for dancing with you.”

     Bruce looks back up at the scarred, pale specter of a man.

_Destiny is calling me._

     Jay chuckles, “Call me a romantic, call it destiny, but the moment I woke up in that river I knew I had been crafted into someone else, someone to match you. A soulmate if you will.” His smile is softer than it’s ever been. “You complete me.”

     Bruce’s face molds itself into disgust. “You sick fuck.”

     The Joker just laughs, like always.

_Open up my eager eyes._

     Tonight is an Arkham night, so Jay indulges himself, stealing a touch to his Bat’s half-hidden face. Bruce flinches, but doesn’t pull away. Those acid eyes bore into his skull and he knows in that moment that no one knows him better than the Joker. He wants to distance himself from the Joker’s words, to reject the madness that threatens to engulf him, but a deep part of him has never felt more seen. Strange, to feel like his soulmate is a man who never stops finding ways to make Bruce hate him.

      Jack, on the other hand, has never felt more content.

     “You can lock me away, but I’ll always be there, waiting for you with a smile. I’ll always be there to show you the joke,” red lips release peals of laughter.

_“Cause I’m Mr. Brightside”_


End file.
